"I understand," Huntington said quietly; "and I'll warrant you find yourself spending much of your time gazing at the surface of that little lake."

"Yes," she exclaimed surprised; "but how do you know that, and why should I do it?"

"It is not so mysterious, after all," he answered smiling. "I have no psychic powers, but I know a little of the Oriental teachings: the surface of the lake is a mirror, symbolic of illusion and reflecting our souls, in which alone we must seek the Buddha.--But to-day it is of a modern divinity I would prefer to speak. These have been hard weeks for you, Merry, and I have sympathized with you."

"Why,--yes; in a way," she admitted. "But like everything else I do, they haven't amounted to anything, have they?"

"Haven't they?" he asked pointedly. "Isn't some of that unrest gone now that you and the dear mother understand each other?"

"Of course. That means everything to me, but again it is I who benefit.

Oh! Mr. Huntington, I want so much to do something for somebody else, and no matter how hard I try it always turns out that I am the gainer. I believed I had the opportunity at last, and again I was mistaken. But this time it wasn't my fault, was it? At least I was ready to do my part."

"Don't you know that you can't try to do something for some one else without having it come back to you?"

"Do you expect that what you are doing for Mr. Hamlen will bring you a reward?"

"It has already given me your friendship. Isn't that enough?"

The color came to Merry's face, and she turned her glance away. "What can that mean to you who have so many friendships?" she asked.

"It is the friendship I value most among them all."

She looked up at him quickly, startled by the intensity of his tone.

"You can't mean that," she said. "To me it is different. You brought into my life something which it never had and never would have had except for you. To me your friendship is the grandest thing I know, but what can mine mean to you? Something fine and splendid must come in return for the months you have given Mr. Hamlen. I wish--" she hesitated a moment but then continued bravely--"yes, I wish it might even bring you back the girl you loved--and found too late!"

"Merry! child! what are you saying!" he cried.

"Have I hurt you again?"

"Not hurt me; but you make it hard for me to be fair to our friendship."

"Can't we be friends--because of her?"

Huntington turned to her gently, taking her hand in his. His face showed the force of the emotion which fought for supremacy, but the calmness with which he spoke evidenced his control.

"I have tried to be fair to our friendship," he repeated, "but you must not misunderstand. I wonder if it would be more kind to tell you the truth, even though it cost me what I value so."

"Don't,--please don't!" she begged.

"I fear I must," he said with decision, "no matter what it costs.

Whether this strain with Hamlen has weakened my resolve, or because the romance of the j.a.panese Benten hovers over this spot and bids me speak, I must tell you, little girl, that my friendship has only been a blind to cover something far deeper, which I have no right to offer you. The time has come for you to know that, for it will tell you what you are to me. I would relinquish all I possess to turn back the years until they gave me the right to ask you to be my wife."

She started to her feet and tried to speak, but he stopped her.

"You don't need to answer," he insisted. "I understand only too well."

"But the girl you met too late--"

"Was you, dear child! I am a generation ahead of my time; otherwise I believe it might have been."

He smiled as he always did when deeply moved, but this time the sadness showed through the mask. As the full comprehension of his words came to her, Merry's color faded but she looked into his face with a woman's candor.

"Is the difference in our ages the only reason?" she asked.

"Alas! that is enough!"

"No, no!" she cried impulsively. "You wouldn't let that stand between us!"

"Do you realize what you are saying, Merry? It can't be that you understand!"

"I do! I do!" she cried. "Please don't stop. Say it to me!"

He placed his arm around her and drew her to him. "Can it possibly be?"

he demanded incredulously. "Can this really have come to me?"

Merry hid her face on his shoulder. "Say it!" she insisted, "please,--please say it!"

"Merry--child--I love you!"

Her arm crept about his neck, and then her radiant face came out from its hiding place, and held itself ready for the consecration.

x.x.xVIII

They lingered in happy disregard of pa.s.sing time, each seeming to fear disillusionment if they deserted their magic garden. Huntington no longer felt the oppression of the years, Merry no longer drifted from her anchorage.

"Monty," she whispered slyly,--"dare I call you Monty?"

"If you don't, I shall call you incorrigible!"

"Monty,--who is Benten?"

She asked the question so hesitatingly, as if ashamed to admit her ignorance, that he laughed.

"Benten?" he repeated after her. "Surely you know Benten! She is none other than an adorable j.a.panese lady of antiquity who is known as the deity of Beauty, the divinity of Love and the G.o.ddess of Eloquence. I have no doubt she has other attributes, but those are enough for us, aren't they, little sweetheart?"

"Oh, Monty,--you know so much!" she sighed. "It is going to be a terrible strain!"

She seemed very winsome in her present mood, and he smiled happily.

"The strain will be on me, dear heart," he protested. "I have a.s.sumed wisdom all these years with no danger of being unmasked; now you will find me out.